When you’re busy planning a holiday you tend to overlook the details, such as how well you know your traveling companions. Some friends are best left at home.

An Article by Jane Christmas

Several years ago, I went on a holiday with a friend. We’ll call her Carol. We had met through work and a friendship quickly took hold, so well in fact that one of us—I can’t remember who now—eventually suggested we take a vacation together. We settled on a destination, an all-inclusive package, and headed down south. By the time we returned home a week later we were barely on speaking terms.

It was all my fault. According to Carol, I had side-stepped buddies-on-holiday protocol by wandering into the hotel café one day without her and ordering lunch. She also complained that I didn’t spend enough time with her, and that I was too absorbed in my book.

I had gone on holidays with friends before with happy results, so I felt awful that things hadn’t worked out with Carol. But before I beat myself up about it I came to a conclusion: Some friends are best left at home.

The bitter experience with Carol was forgotten a few years later when I opted to hike the 800-kilometre Camino de Santiago de Compostela with 14 other middle-aged women, only two of whom I knew well. The Camino is an ancient Spanish pilgrim route that has become immensely popular in the last decade with those who like their vacations with a side order of adventure and exercise. What could be better than walking with like-minded women?

Nothing prepared me for this excursion except the cautionary words of a psychic I visited before setting off, and whose predictions I chose to ignore. “Catfights,” she had said. “I see lots of catfights.”

Individually, all the women were vibrant, accomplished, self-reliant, good-humoured and educated, but when thrown together for a month they quickly fell into three categories: those who needed to dominate; those who allowed themselves to be dominated; and those who were politely ostracized because they didn’t fit into either camp. One or two in the last category quietly bolted after sizing up the situation. It was like Lord of the Flies on estrogen.

A week into the pilgrimage—we were in Estella, a gorgeous medieval town between Pamplona and Burgos—someone demanded a meeting. The purpose, we were told, was to clarify our route, but by the time our group had assembled in a dark bar with a jug of wine on the table it was clear that another agenda was brewing. The alpha chicks were fluffing their feathers.

The discussion opened with lots of soothing New-Age talk about “needing the group”, “bonding with our sisters”, “connecting with each other’s souls,” and “the incredible magic of the Camino”. From there it moved toward the idea that it wasn’t the journey that was important it was bonding with our little tribe. As for reaching Santiago de Compostela, the Camino’s ultimate destination, some felt it was neither doable nor necessary. Our Camino had turned into a moveable consciousness-raising exercise.

My dreams were being hijacked, and I began to panic. I desperately wanted to complete the Camino and I knew there was still ample time to do so. As we went around the table and each person was asked to state their goals—an exercise in group intimidation if ever there was one—I could feel the Little Voice Inside me screaming “Ditch them! Ditch them!” I recalled the psychic’s predictions about catfights, but I could not bring myself to break with the herd.

After a week of group dynamics serendipity eventually stepped in and rescued me. At the time, it seemed more like a bad dream than serendipity, however: I found myself alone and lost; I went for days without food; I became scared, delusional and depressed; I spent a lot of time trying to find a way to quit the Camino and fly home. It was the best thing that could have happened to me: It wasn’t until I lost the group that I began to have a true adventure. I saw things I would have missed had I stuck with the group and been distracted by their squabbling. I allowed myself to be guided by intuition instead of by peer pressure. I met enchanting, free-spirited characters who encouraged me step by step and demonstrated the type of kindness I have rarely experienced. Ironically, a couple of those characters have stayed in close touch more than three years later, unlike the so-called sisterhood I set out with, most of whom I never heard from again.

All of which is meant to illustrate the importance of knowing your traveling companions before you fly off with them into the sunset. Or not. Sometimes it’s the friction that arises between incompatible companions that forces us to surrender our expectations and forge a new path. That’s when we learn the most about ourselves and what our hearts truly desire.

10 Tips for Hiking in a Group

1. Make sure your expectations match those of your companions.
2. Talk openly about how each person handles conflict and disappointment.
3. Choose people who can roll with the punches, who are forgiving and resourceful.
4. The best hiking companions are, generally speaking, those who match your pace. If there’s a slowpoke or speed walker among you talk about how you’ll manage this so that the slowpoke doesn’t feel she’s holding people back and the speed walker doesn’t feel she’s on a leash.
5. Everyone needs space and solitude from time to time. Make sure your group respects those needs.
6. Rotate the responsibility for being navigator and leader. It’s unfair to expect the same person each day to shoulder the stress of reading a map or leading the pack while everyone else blithely chit-chats about the thread count of duvets.
7. If there’s a destination or goal to reach on the journey make sure everyone is clear about the intentions and timelines.
8. Don’t always stick to the map. Detours often deliver wonderful surprises.
9. No hike can be done in comfort without Vaseline. It keeps blisters at bay, softens chapped lips and skin, and can help heal small wounds and infections.
10. If the trip seems headed for dysfunction don’t feel guilty about parting company. It’s one thing to suck it up for a week, it’s another to sacrifice three or four weeks of hard-earned vacation for people who are whiners/back-stabbers/high-maintenance/cheap/obsessive talkers/downright dangerous, or any combination thereof.